


For Better or For Worse

by ShadowFall (SKirisu)



Category: Kamen Rider Gaim
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Minor Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 21:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1564832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKirisu/pseuds/ShadowFall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time can change a person, for better or worse. Featuring dark!Kouta</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Better or For Worse

**Author's Note:**

> AU divergent after Micchi shot Kouta's unguarded back. The idea of dark!Kouta has been circulating ever since episode 26, thus the story was born.

_He turns and drives the Sakura Lock Vehicle through the closing crack, just in time before it locks itself away, perhaps to recuperate for as long as time allows, perhaps to perish and never rejuvenate._

His hood shadows part of his face, careful not to reveal his identity as he steals through the alleys. He has finally escaped Helheim, finally rid himself of the Overlords to return to his place of origin.

He chances upon a newspaper stand manned by an old man, and stares at the date printed on the topmost paper. More importantly, the year.

2024.

It has been ten years. Ten years since he last saw Zawame City, ten years since he last saw the people he knew, the people he fought, the people who betrayed him and left him for dead.

Ten years in Helheim, at the mercy of the Overlords.

It felt like an eternity in that forsaken place.

“Young man, you seem weary. Is there anything wrong?” The old man wheezes. It cuts through his thoughts. It has been a long time since he last heard a human voice that is not his own.

“No, I’m fine.” He mumbles, wincing inwardly at the rough, husky tone. Years of screaming must have permanently damaged his vocal chords.

“Young people nowadays are better educated than those of my generation. Look at the current director of Yggdrasill Corporation. So young, yet so talented. Here,” The old man points at the front headlines, where it reads ‘New and Improved Security Defence Systems Added to Zawame Households Against Threats’. “This is designed and tested by Yggdrasill Corporation, approved by Kureshima Mitsuzane himself. Now even our homes are better protected against monsters.” He illustrates with gestures and sound effects.

Kouta schools his face into a look of surprise.

“Kureshima Mitsuzane is the current director of Yggdrasill?”

The old man chuckles. “You’re not from around here, are you? Yes, he took over his older brother Kureshima Takatora about nine years ago, after his brother mysteriously disappears. Brilliant boy he is, charismatic and wins the hearts of us citizens. But I feel that he lacks the resolve Takatora possesses, as if something is haunting him.”

He fixes a perceptive, knowing gaze on Kouta. “Young man, you have the same haunted look as Kureshima Mitsuzane. Different things haunt you. Perhaps darker things. Nevertheless.”

Of course. Micchi has always been brilliant. Intelligent. A fast learner. Yet amazingly misguided by his notions of protecting him and Mai.

It was Micchi who had been manipulating things from the shadows, orchestrating fights with the Genesis Driver users and Inves.

It was Micchi who shot at his unguarded back mid-transformation. Kaito told him as much.

It was Micchi who knelt by his fallen form, choking out a broken “I’m sorry, Kouta-san. It is better this way.” after defeating him, and then left him to die in Helheim.

Kouta can’t bring himself to hate him, yet he knows that Micchi cannot be pardoned for his deeds. He knows what happened to Takatora for a while - he was there.

He was there with the ex-Kamen Rider Zangetsu, both betrayed by the people they trusted (in the Kureshima elder’s case, they were Sengoku Ryouma and his own brother) and left for dead in Helheim.

He was there, helping the older man escape from the accursed place. Bruised, broken, battered, driverless and unable to protect himself, Takatora had volunteered to substitute Kouta as the Overlords’ source of entertainment, but Kouta, hard-headed and self-sacrificial to a fault as always, had shoved his own driver and lock seeds at him and pushed the older man through a forcefully opened crack before the Overlords caught him.

And thus began Kouta’s time in Helheim.

Ten years have passed since. He hopes Kureshima Takatora is still alive somewhere, his driver and lock seeds generally intact and not lost somewhere in the churning waters of the river that courses through Zawame City.

Gently, he declines the offer to buy a paper (he has no cash after all), and moves on.

He passes a window display, and stops in his tracks when he sees his reflection for the first time in a decade. Thin hands pull down his hood. His hair is shaggier, longer, unkempt, possibly midway down his back. His clothes are tattered, torn by the sharp claws of the Overlords before they fell to the flames. The cuts and bruises and wounds on his skin have healed, courtesy of whatever Inves (or even Overlord) voodoo the Overlords bestowed upon him to speed up his recovery so that they can continue breaking their human plaything again and again. In addition to other  _upgrades_  that makes Kouta understand, just a little, why the Overlords deem themselves superior to humans.

It was an endless cycle.

He makes sure their carcasses turn to ash and dissipates to the winds when he lays waste to their dwellings (lair? homes? headquarters?) in a raging fire.

He knows he has changed. There is a hard glint in his eyes, eyes which no longer reflect that of a wide-eyed, naive individual. The cold gaze of one battle worn and victorious, the gaze of a survivor. He is stronger, more cunning, more devious. The Kazuraba Kouta he once was is long gone. What surprises him the most, however, is his outward appearance.

Kouta hasn’t aged a single day since the day he vanishes. He still retains the same youthful look of a man barely into his twenties. Time can change a person, for better or for worse.

A certain Yggdrasill professor might simply wet his pants just to lay his hands on him right now, considering the amount of data he has on his person.

If he is still around.

Kouta does not know, and finds that he does not care.

He steals a wary glance around and cloaks himself again before hurrying off to his intended destination.


End file.
